


A Loop Ran Through Us

by MisbegottenMalice



Category: Resident Evil
Genre: AU, Altered Timelines, F/M, Heroes to Villains, Hint of Valenfield, If you're confused it's working, Major character deaths. Unexpected surprises are a surprise., OOC, Pregnancy, Time Loop, Villains to Heroes, emotional collapse, pregnancy loss, time skipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22911742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisbegottenMalice/pseuds/MisbegottenMalice
Summary: June 15th, 1997A startling change of scenery for Jill as she finds she's stranded back in her past, a year before the Mansion incident.There are two options before her, let it play out, knowing what she does, or change the fate awaiting her and the citizens of Raccoon City, or die trying.Little does Jill realize, but this world, this timeline is not going to go just how she remembers it.
Relationships: Albert Wesker/ Jill Valentine
Comments: 9
Kudos: 42





	1. Wake up, Valentine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mrsalbertwesker](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Mrsalbertwesker).



> This is a story I wrote originally for MRSALBERTWESKER on twitter
> 
> I deleted the original after three years on different server please feel free to critique and be kind, I am not formally educated in the language.

"Wake up, Valentine!"

Jill flew awake, alert and sat at attention, papers flying off her desk. 

"You think you're paid to sleep on the job? Your phone has been ringing off the hook, I have a mountain of paperwork to accomplish." he stood in front of her desk with a disapproving sneer. 

"Wesker?!" she shrieked and fell back crashing to the floor along with her chair. 

The action startled him and he went over to help her up. "What in the hell is wrong with you!" he spat. 

She recoiled from him as he went to grab her hand. "Don't touch me!" she shrieked again, and this time the entire office turned to look.

His eyes were wide, face brimming with embarrassment, a shade of deep red across his cheeks. He scowled and stormed off, slamming his office door, curtains vibrating, and once again set upon by the wide-eyed confused stares of her colleagues. 

Chris walked over and helped her up.  
"C-Chris?! What's happening?" she asked, looking around shocked. 

"Are you alright? You don't look well,"  
he asked pulling her to her feet and fixing her chair.  
"I'll tell the Captain you're overworked. Last week was a lot to take in, and I get it." he smiled. "Just go home."

She calmed slightly but continued to look around in bewilderment. If Chris was at ease, she started to think maybe this was just a bad dream...

 ** _What is going on?! Why am I in the S.T.A.R.S. Office! and Wesker's here?_**  
her mind reeled trying to figure how each piece fit into the puzzle, how could she be here, she was just making breakfast for a very pregnant, morning sick Claire.

 _Wait! What's today's date?_ she thought.

"Hey, can you hand me the newspaper?" she asked, trying to stay calm. 

Chris grabbed the paper off the floor, Jill took it, eyes immeditely narrowing into the date on the top right corner.

"It's June 15th." she whispered. "1997..."

"Yeah, why?" he pushed.

"What you forgot??" he asked with a teasing tone. "It's the same as it was yesterday, and the day before." he mocked.

"I'm going to go talk to the Captain," she sighed. "I think I might have to take a mental health day." she smiled at Chris and patted him on the arm, grabbing her bag off her desk and walking past him.

"Okay, well get some rest, Jill. We have a lot to do tomorrow, ya know." he said, returning to his desk.

"I know, thanks.." she chuckled and knocked on the Captain's door.

"Come in." he called from the other side, a decidedly perturbed hint in his voice.

"Captain?" she said cautiously as she walked in. "Listen, I'm really sorry about that. I'm not usually so tired." she began explaining, but it felt like she was just giving him excuses he wouldn't buy. She watched him nervously as he continued to write on whatever paperwork he was working on.

He pointed to the door and she went to shut it behind her. She continued to stand there waiting for a response and after several minutes he put down his pen and rubbed his forehead and removed his glasses, massaging his temples. 

"I don't know what's going on," he started. "I don't know what I did to solicit such a reaction earlier, but I hope you won't be repeating it." his cheeks a deep shade of red. 

"I'm sorry? I didn't mean to cause a scene, I think I just haven't been sleeping well." she smiled, trying to lighten the mood. She had to act normal. She needed to find out what was going on. Surely if this was a dream she'd be waking up at any moment.

"We both got to bed at a reasonable time, you seemed to have slept well," he responded, putting his glasses back on and standing up from his chair. "I needed to leave early to start on this file, but after it is finished, I'll be able to linger a bit longer with you in the mornings." he explained, coolly and shot her a look, a devilish and seductive look.

 _WHAT?!_ Jill felt a sudden urge to vomit.

Now she had no idea what was happening. It's a year before the Mansion, a year before the collapse of Raccoon City. She was already on a sinking ship, she knew what was coming, and what horror was around the corner.

"I think you woke me up when you shut the door this morning." she rubbed her neck trying to seem embarrassed. She went to look up and he was already in front of her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into a passionate kiss. His tongue slipped in and the action startled her. She wanted to fight him but needed to keep up this odd charade.

They continued to exchange heated kisses, when she felt his hand slide down her pants and slip two fingers between her legs. She moaned and they slipped inside of her, but it all felt so wrong, and yet so good. 

"Captain," she whispered as he pulled her close and continued his onslaught. "Not here, someone could-" she was silenced by his lips returning to her own, a deep and bruising kiss, hot breath on her lips, the overwhelming ministrations continuing, he was bringing her to the verge of climax until they were both stopped by a harsh knock at the door. Wesker withdrew his hand, looked her over once, kissed her softly on the cheek and quickly went to open the door.

Chris stood at the door and as usual, oblivious. Jill slipped out as Wesker began conversing with Chris over paperwork he didn't know how to fill out, which was something that she _could_ remember. Some things remained the same she guessed, but whatever this thing with Captain Wesker was...

 _Did I imagine that?!_ she thought, quickly stepping out of the office, and walking as fast as she could to go out the front and to her car. _Did I really let him do that?!_

**If he falls for you, would he change?**

She stopped to collect herself as she entered the parking lot. The lingering feeling between her legs, the flush on her cheeks at the thought, the way he knew how to work her over, and how he had casually mentioned their night together. Like he had been doing this for so long it was second nature, and the way her body just melted into him, this whole thing wasn't normal, this place isn't normal, this had to be a dream.

Up until now, she had shared a bed nightly with Chris. They'd already planned their wedding, she was set to leave rehab in a few months, Wesker had died in Africa a year an a half before, Leon and Claire were visiting them for the week. 

**You could change this, you know how this goes, you can change this.**

But what if she failed? What if he figured it out. She knew about his involvement with Umbrella, she knew he'd betray them next year in the mansion. If that happened, and that wasn't so certain now.

This all felt like a deeply personal betrayal of her life she had planned out with Chris. Even if this was some strangely vivid hallucination or dream, she's still doing things she didn't fully agree to, and while this whole ordeal didn't seem real, it felt real. 

His lips, the way he knew her, it felt so much more intimate than what she had going with Chris. What she had been used to felt like puppy love, and this, this was pure insatiable desire, like a raw primal feeling between them.

"How long," she whispered. "how long have I been with him?"  
She continued to stand there near her car, picking over each second of what had transpired with Wesker until a voice nearby called out to her. 

"Jill!" Rebecca called cheerily. "Are you heading home?" she asked concerned. "You aren't sick, are you? That's not like you to leave early." 

"Hi Rebecca." she waved as the young woman came up to her. "I'm just dealing with a bad migraine, and can't focus on work." she lied.

"Haven't been sleeping?" she leaned in to look her over, almost annoyingly close.

"Well, not as of late I guess."

"I know you and Captain Wesker have a lot to deal with at the moment," Rebecca shrugged, shooting her a knowing smile. 

Jill returned a look of confusion, but she just didn't know what to say. She didn't know if this was a work-related thing, or if the relationship she had with Wesker was known to everyone else.

"I should let you go." Rebecca waved and ran up the steps. "Anyways. Have a good rest!" and she disappeared inside.


	2. Best kept secret

The door to her apartment was locked, which just gave her an even bigger headache.  
Someone had been parked in her spot, and now her key didn't work to her own apartment.  
Not a biggie, she would just pick the lock and figure it all out later.  
she pushed the door open, and began to absentmindedly shrug off her bag, and jacket, throwing them to the floor.  
All she wanted now was to go to bed and wake up with Claire still waiting with her for Chris and Leon to come home.

She had so many things to do, the invitations, the venue, and she had been looking forward to it all, but whatever this nightmare was, needed to be over A.S.A.P.

"Hello?" Someone said confused from inside. "Who's there?" It sounded like an elderly lady. But Jill didn't know any elderly people that might live with her. 

"Hello?" she called back but began to come to the realization as she quickly scanned the apartment from the door that nothing she was seeing looked familiar. Not her TV, nor her furniture. The smell from the kitchen was even foreign. 

A little old lady came around the corner, hobbling around with a walker, from what was Jill's bedroom and shot her a worried look. 

"Please, I don't want any trouble. I don't have any money." she began, frightened. 

"I'm sorry, Ma'am! I'm not here to rob you! I think I have the wrong apartment!" Jill panicked, hands scooping up her bag and jacket.

"I'm sorry, young lady, but I don't recognize you, I haven't ever seen you and I own these apartments." the woman replied, a little less frightened, but still concerned.

Jill stood there confused. "I'm sorry to bother you, I'll let you be." she said embarrassed and quickly exited the woman's home. She thought outside the door about what was going on.

_Not my apartment, I'm apparently sleeping with Wesker, and it's now 1997. What in the hell?_

She got back in her car and went back to the police station. It took her an hour and twenty minutes to sum up the courage to go in, knowing that everyone had already gone home for the day and she would be alone in the S.T.A.R.S. office with Wesker.

She stood at the office door, hand on the knob but unable to turn it. What was she even going to say? _**'Hey, Captain. Where do I live?' What kind of messed up whack dream did she think up.**_

"Are you going to go in?" called a voice from down the hall.

Wesker was coming towards her and had a stack of papers tucked under his arm. 

"If you need help, I can open that for you." he teased. 

She sighed annoyed and opened the door, letting him in first. She looked around for anyone else that might still be working, but as she had assumed, it was just her and Captain Wesker. Which didn't help her already anxious mind.

"You're back," He said looking over his shoulder as he passed out the papers to each of the desks. Tomorrow's assignment no doubt.  
"I thought you were tired." he asked.

"I," she whispered, almost inaudibly. "I don't know where I live." 

He turned to look at her, setting the papers down and walking to her quickly. He grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, touching foreheads at first, then feeling her pulse, and lastly manipulating her face to look her over.

_Right, he's medically trained._

"I'm fine." she pulled away from him and straightened out her skirt, flustered. "I just am having a really bad day."

"Valentine, it's more than a bad day if you have forgotten whom you are living with," he smirked, resuming his task.

"Who I'm," she watched him, confused. "what are you talking about?" 

"I think I should take you in to be evaluated," he said.

"I'm fine!" she insisted.

"You must be suffering from amnesia." he sighed. "Did you hit your head after you got up?" 

Jill threw her hands up, and walked out the offices in a huff. Wesker quickly trailing after her, exasperated. "Listen, you are having some sort of distress and I have an obligation as your boss to see you are cared for, however, you have never acted this strangely and as your lover and-" 

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned around, glaring at him.

" **I'M FINE!** " She yelled. "If you and I are lovers, I must be dreaming because Chris and-" she began but Wesker's features twisted in disgust silenced her abruptly.

"You've been sleeping with Chris behind my back?" Wesker shot back, infuriated.

Jill stopped her rant and knew she had said the absolute wrong thing. 

"No! I just think Chris would be worried if-" she replied 

"Chris! God what is it with you and that simpleton! When have you known me to care about his pathetic feelings?" Wesker argued back. He looked her over as if scanning her for any hint of a lie. 

They were both tired, he from his work, and Jill from waking up in such a confusing mess.

"We've been living together for two years. We live in a nice place on Ennerdale. We bought the place last year," he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Clearly, I am the only one keeping track of this."

Jill just stared blankly. As if she was watching a car crash. They're so close they bought a home together.

**A home.**

**Home.**

**Together**.

"I- I just forgot." she sighed and fumbled with her keys. "I'm sorry."

Wesker sighed. 

"I have another hour until I can be home, I don't know what's wrong with you, but I want you to wait in the lounge until I can drive us home." He turned from her and returned to the office. Shooting her a worried look from down the hall before ducking in and shutting the door.

Her head was already splitting but this was a whole new headache.

On their way home, Wesker turned off of Ennerdale and hit the main road to the hospital. Jill groaned as they pulled into the parking lot, and he got out and came around to open her door. 

"I want you evaluated." he said pointedly, and he noticed the displeasure on her face.

"Fine, but nothing's wrong." she said swatting his hand away. 

He groaned and walked in the front doors and up to the counter. 

"Hello, how can we help you?" the receptionist asked.

She could see him talking to the receptionist for a few moments and then he motioned to her to come inside.

Before long they were sitting in a room awaiting the doctor. And Jill had nothing but time to contemplate the day. Work, Amnesia? Her memories, who she was with right now, his strange and frankly uncharacteristic behavior. 

He stood leaning against the wall waiting with his eyes closed, still in his work clothes.

"Hello." a voice spoke from behind the door, it opened and a doctor walked in. Immediately Jill was struck with a realization of who it was.

"I'm Dr. Birikin." he smiled extending a hand. "I'm the on-call doctor for the evening." 

"Hello." she replied shaking it. She **knew** who this was, what he was up to, what was going to happen to poor Claire and Leon, his own daughter, his wife and the entirety of Raccoon City including her.

At once Wesker seemed relaxed and Jill could only guess why.

"I'm here to run a few tests and draw some blood." he said prepping a needle. "It could be a reaction from the medicine you were given last week." he explained.

"Last week?" she asked.

"The explosion, Jill. You did hit your head." Wesker explained.

**_Explosion?!?_ ** _Oh, right. There was a bomb threat over at the high school and S.T.A.R.S. was sent for it. I had forgotten, but I don't remember Birkin being at the hospital._

"Right." she agreed.

Dr. Birkin walked over and drew three vials of blood.

"I'll go and run the panel of tests and be right back, it shouldn't take long. If we find something wrong, we'll be keeping you for observation." he bandaged the site and collected the samples. "Sit tight, should be about half an hour." he nodded at them both shooting a smile to Wesker before leaving.

Neither of them spoke for the entirety of the wait.

Neither knew what to say and with each minute that stretched into eternity, she grew more and more anxious. 

A knock again at the door and Dr. Birkin came back in. 

He looked decidedly shook up and glanced at Wesker first, worrying him enough to sit down. "There isn't anything wrong that we can see. I'm not sure if you feel comfortable having me share this out loud, or if you are comfortable-" he began, fumbling through what she could only assume might be an infection.

"Just tell me." she replied, annoyed. 

_**Whatever you've cooked up to keep me for your sick testing isn't going to work!** _

"You're about **3** weeks along." he announced. "You're looking at a due date at the end of March."

Jill looked immediately down, horrified at the news, staring at the tile as if looking at it would somehow make all of this terrible nightmare go away. She knew what was insinuated, she'd be expecting before the outbreak. She'd be bringing his spawn into this world.

"No." she said, pleading. "No, no, no!" 

"Jill, let's think about this." Wesker urged, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

"Get it out. I don't want it." she pleaded, swatting his away and grabbing Doctor Birkin by the sleeves.

Birkin looked at Wesker, flustered and confused. "I-I'm sorry, but I can't perform the operation here, you'll have to go to the next town for that." he said meekly.

"Jill, calm down. We need to talk about this." Wesker insisted again.

Jill stood up and ran out the door, Wesker didn't immediately follow her which she knew he was probably talking to his colleague, so she ducked out the back of the hospital, knowing she could catch a taxi on the side street and stay at Chris's for the night. 

"Take me to Elkwood Apartments on Park St." she instructed and the taxi sped off. 

**_This was a nightmare, a horrifying nightmare. It's not real. It can't be real. She's at home, in bed with Chris, he's warm and smells like gunpowder and that weird off-brand cologne. She's safe, making Claire a meal she's craving. She's safe, she's not here._ **

"Ma'am, we're here." the taxi driver announced, she quickly paid and exited the cab.

Jill ran in to the building and up the three flights of stairs to Chris's place, banging hard on his door. "Chris! It's Jill! Let me in! Chris!!" she called out. She could hear something slam against the floor, and then heavy foot steps running to the door. Chris opened the door a crack and looked bewildered at Jill.

"Jill, what are you doing here?" Chris asked flustered.

She could see he was sweaty, his forehead was red and he was only opening the door enough to see his face. 

_**What's going on?** _

"Am I interrupting something?" Jill asked, trying to peer past him. 

"No! No! I- Well, yeah. But I have time for you! Just give me a- um." he rambled nervously. 

"Chris? Who is it?" called a woman from behind him.

"Amy, you might as well come here," he said looking back to Jill, embarrassed. "Just wait here a second." he pleaded and closed the door. She could hear him talking to the woman on the other side of the door and eventually, the door opened and a tall blonde, in a blue cocktail dress and white flats walked out the door and past her, ignoring Jill completely. 

"I'm sorry, I interrupted didn't I." Jill rubbed at her face embarrassed and tired. 

"Nah, it's fine. She's a neighbor. Come in." he ushered. 

Chris was in sweats and looked disheveled. He had been busy, so she could understand the look.

"I need a place to crash, I can't go home." Jill said, straight to the point, moving a pile of unfolded laundry and sinking into Chris's couch.

"Sure, no problem. Uh, you need me to go check out your place? Isn't Captain Wesker there?" he asked puzzled, looking sideways at her, confused.

"Ugh, does everyone know?!" She huffed. 

"Well, I mean, aren't you guys getting married in July?" he inquired.

Jill turned to look at Chris like he'd spoke an alien language. He didn't look like he was joking, he didn't look like he was playing a prank or this was some sort of cruel jab at her.

"Jill, it's like 1:20 at night, I gotta get to bed, we both have work." he pointedly rambled.

"Right, well can I just sleep on your couch?" 

"Sure, you want a pillow and blankets?" he asked rubbing the back of his neck.

\- -  
It was 8:00 when she woke up, Chris was sitting at his counter eating toast and eggs and she rubbed her eyes and sat up. He was reading some sort of article in the paper and didn't hear her stir. 

She got up and shuffled to the bathroom, washing her face and combing her fingers through her hair to try and look half way presentable.

"Jill?" Chris called from the kitchen. "If you need a toothbrush or comb you can use the new ones Claire keeps for visits here. I promise they aren't used." he added.

 _Nice Chris, nice recovery._ She thought giving herself a once over before exiting the bathroom. She wasn't hungry for toast or eggs and the spread Chris was using on his toast made her stomach turn. 

_Right._ She remembered.

Why had she woken up? Wasn't this supposed to be a dream?


	3. The first knot in our time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first knot in the loop.  
> How long will they tie their own noose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not good at writing smut for English readers, but please be warned there is a fair bit.

She'd have to face the music sooner or later. After all, whoever she was here lived with him, shared a bed with him, and was currently pregnant. 

There's no way she can bring a child into the world that's going to unfold.  
She knew, this could spell her doom but wasn't completely happy with the idea of aborting. However this wasn't a decision she could make lightly. 

There would only be a year until the outbreak, then the whole city would be a zombie-infested nightmare.  
Albert Wesker would kill off most of her friends and colleagues, then disappear with some of the most formidable supernatural powers she had ever seen. 

  


Sure, she knew about the Wesker children, the project. All of that had been recovered from the Mansion with Chris when they went to apprehend Spencer. She had made sure to take photos of all the documents for later reading.

She knew what Spencer and the founders of Umbrella had done, what kind of nightmare they put him through, and for a fraction of a second, she felt bad for him. But then again, he had murdered her friends, had tried to flood the entire world with a deadly virus.

Which would have spelled certain doom for the planet.

**What if he had never done it?**

****

****

What if he was different?

Could she change him? Could she sway him off course, create something from this new world that would change the future?

She had to first walk inside, knowing she was pregnant, knowing that she still had to work and see him. She couldn't leave, abandoning the people she cared about was beyond wrong, and she was the only one who knew.

"Morning, Elliott." Jill smiled in greeting, passing the detective. He along with about 90% of the R.P.D. would be wiped out by next year. And she was the only one who knew. 

"Morning, Jill. The Captain is looking for you," he said, passing her with a cheery smile in return.

"Yeah, I'm headed up." she stopped and the detective did so as well. "Did the meeting start yet?"

She'd seen the paperwork passed out on the desks, that always meant there was going to be a meeting. 

"Not yet, the S.T.A.R.S. team is at the range for weapons training this morning, think the Captain is the only one in his office." he explained.

"Thanks." she chimed and disappeared up to the office.

-

 _Oh god, I was at Chris's place last night, what if he knows?_ She thought.  
She stood again by the door to the office, but didn't have time to think up an excuse, as Captain Wesker opened the door.

Heavy dark circles under his eyes, hair down, not characteristically swept back, and his clothes were disheveled. Not his usual modus operandi, which was in and of itself concerning.

"Good morning." she said.

"Where were you?" he asked, his voice strained, almost as if he had been crying. "I was worried all night, I couldn't find you!" he reached out and pulled her to him squeezing her tight, sobbing.

 **Whoa!** _This is **NOT** the Wesker I know, what is going on??_

**This isn't Captain Wesker!**

"I'm fine. I stayed at a friend's place last night," she reassured. "I'm alright!"

Just then, the S.T.A.R.S. members started coming down the hall and back to the offices. Wesker continued to hold tight to her. She squirmed in panic thinking of the scene that Chris and her colleagues would see.

"Wesker, I think-" she began but he stopped her with a kiss. Passionate, and deep, like he was trying to get some point across. Some sort of message to be conveyed to her. When they pulled away from one another the entirety of the office stood there bashfully.

Captain Wesker smoothed back his hair, put his glasses on, and shouted;

"Don't stand there staring! Get to your desks!" he barked. 

All at once the office returned to normal, Chris looked to her with a huge grin on his face. She returned the look with a roll of the eyes and proceeded to continue her day.

She was nearing the end of her work when she looked up and noticed the clock read a quarter to seven. She'd stayed much later than she thought, the time had flown by. 

"Jill, come here." Captain Wesker called. 

She stood up and walked into his office. He was much tidier looking, and even his clothes seemed to be neater. Before she could really think, she caught herself smiling. 

**What?!** _No, no, no, no. We're not having a baby and settling down with a mass murderer. Not happening! She screamed inside._

He looked up and ushered again for her to shut the door. 

"I'm pushing the wedding forward, we'll be having a planner come in this next week and help us book the venue, should you still wish to have it at the Lake." He stated. He took his glasses and set them on the desk, standing up and looking out the blinds into the office where Rebecca and Forrest were the only ones behind, talking about something.

"Are you still wishing for the Lake?" he asked again, as she had spaced out.

_A Lake? What was me thinking? At this time of year? The mosquitoes are going to be horrendous!_

"I think maybe we should just wait." she replied.

"You want to get married _after_ the baby is born?" He asked perplexed. 

_**Right** , baby. Marriage to Albert Wesker and a baby on the way, not ideal. Really not ideal, Jill! You have a zombie apocalypse coming and that hulking monstrosity is gonna be after you soon. Marital bliss does not factor well into this goddamn eqation!_

"No, I think we should wait on the **whole** getting married thing." she said.

He turned from the curtain and stared at her bemused.  
"The wedding is a formality, Jillian. _We've already filed the paperwork._ " he added.

**WHOA! What?!?**

"Under the law we are already married, the wedding was merely for family. As you know I do not have family, but you insisted we invite yours and your friends." 

**WAIT. TIME OUT! This has gone so far off course, what happened to him being a lunatic and hating the entire human race?**

"Wait, do you want this baby?" she challenged. "You don't seem like the child-friendly sort." 

"I wouldn't say I am ecstatic, but this isn't an issue," he replied. "I assumed children would be in our picture eventually."

Jill sat there dumbfounded. 

Albert Wesker, the man that had planned to **annihilate** the human race, was sitting across from her discussing the american dream. 

He walked over and sat at his desk, shuffling through his paperwork and sorting various pieces before smiling. "You act as if we haven't discussed this. I've got enough money for us to be comfortable Jill. What? Would you rather us do this a different way?" 

**Ringing in her ears, a sound that grows louder, and he's saying something but she can't hear him anymore.**

  


There's a flash of light, like a spark shooting through her veins, and a feeling of overwhelming dread runs down her spine. She feels like her blood is on fire, a pain blisters deep inside and suddenly her world is fading away before her. He's blurring into nothingness, like a candle being snuffed out, and the office, the building fades away. But there's a darkness coming, it's reaching out with its claws to grasp her.

She screws her eyes shut, as she feels herself fall, she is wracked with pain, a familiar pain and her eyes are forced open once again as she hears it, the voice she dreads.

"Get up," he snarls. "You've wasted too much of my time already."

That voice, sharp and cruel.

The smell, this feeling against her skin, the tightness in her chest. She reaches for her chest and it's there. The metal, the heat, the searing molten lava pumped into her veins every half hour.

"Don't touch, the site is far too fresh," he orders. "you'll cause yourself and the device irreparable damage."

She's foggy, familiarly so. She's burning from the inside out. He's the same as he ever was, and she's dying inside, waking up to a different nightmare. 

"Your brows are furrowed, something to say?" he taunts. "Well. Speak."

"Yes, Sir." she responds, it's the same as usual. She can't possibly speak her mind. 

He's in the corner fiddling with surgical tools, and cleaning something? No, he's prepping something, she knows what's coming because she'll blackout after this and be in stasis for a few days. She remembers. 

"Don't." she manages.

"Don't?" He asks. "Don't what?"

He comes to her at once with the syringe in hand. 

"I command you to say what's on your mind." he smiles. 

"I don't want to sleep." she replies.

"Ah, so you know what this is?" he smirks. " _Very good._ "

He points to the grey and tan surgical chair sitting in the middle of the room and commands her to lay down on it. She is compliant, and he's happy with her obedience.

"You see, I've put something there that doesn't belong," he confesses, pointing to her abdomen. "I will be undoing my mistake before Excella can figure out what I've done." he's measuring the dosage and filling the needle with expert skill and she has no choice but to watch him.

After all, she knows this side of him. The rape, the torture and the pain of being his mindless slave, day after day. Excella would at least allow her to eat good food, and give her breaks. But Wesker was cruel, never quite killing her, but bringing her close enough.

"I wasn't planning on telling you, but I suppose you're inside there somewhere, aware of what's happening to your body." he was always so clinical in his discussions with her, it's exactly how she remembers him.

"I could be persuaded to turn off the device if you would, in turn, do me a favor." he looks into her eyes, standing over her with the syringe. Poised to inject the liquid contents into her body.

She nods, anything is preferable to this.

"Good." he coos. Stroking her face almost lovingly. 

He grabs for the device on the counter behind himself and pushes the first button. 

The circulation stops, he knows the dosage required and how slow it bleeds from her system. It will be several minutes until she is herself again, so he restrains her in the meantime, working he straps around her wrists and ankles. He may have her unbridled but not free of a few shackles.

By the time he's done, she's feeling the freedom of movement, the words return to her lips.

"You know Chris will kill you." She says so matter of fact, he turns to her perturbed.

"Chris doesn't even know I am alive, dear heart." 

"The B.S.A.A. are coming to Kijuju and will kill you." 

He's getting angry, and his normally mocking lips are turning into those of a snarling wolf, teeth bared in a warning. He turns from her to grab the device he had set down a few minutes before.

"I've seen it." she mocks.

**That's the ticket.**

He stops, ceasing all movement. He's contemplating her words. How could she know any of this information.

"You've been in isolation." he scoffs. "You've only known this facility for the last _three months._ " 

"Uroboros will _fail_ , your great plan, to release it into the atmosphere? That's never going to work." 

An arm sweeps across the counter, swiping all the jars, tools, and gauze onto the floor in a long crash of glass and metal. Jackpot. Jill's got him on the run, and he's really wound up now.

"How do you know any of this?!" he snarls, grabbing her by the throat. Choking her in a familiar rage. 

"I-" she gasps, knowing each word said will be more and more frustrating to him. "Survive!" 

He lets go of her throat, stepping back slightly.

"You've been dreaming for too long, Jillian." he quips. 

"I preferred the _other_ you," she says under her breath. He has spectacular hearing, she knows that, but she can't help the jab.

"Other me? What _other me_ could there be?" he's fuming, back turned to her but there's that flat and clinical voice. Attempting to keep the old familiar bedside manner.

"You can kill me if you want," she starts. "but at least answer me one thing; did you ever want a normal life?" 

Albert Wesker stood speechless. What kind of question was that?  
No one had ever bothered to wonder about his goals, expectations, but the question was still far from ridiculous.

"No." he said blankly. 

"Would you have been with me, if I had asked?" Jill feels herself becoming steadily bolder, confident. 

He's not saying anything, she knows he's all task and no joy, but it's still something she's curious about, having gone through whatever that dream before was.

"I would have been with you." she lies, and while there's a sliver of truth, she's going in for the kill. 

He turns to look at her. Eyes lit up like he's brought the inferno straight from hell, and she's unwavering in her gaze, returned just as strong, she's got water to throw on that blaze.

It's like a battle between them, and he's trying to pull her down, make her give in, but as the second's tick by, something happens. 

Something new.

He pulls at his gloves, undressing each hand, and setting them aside.  
Gloves, coat, and he pulls at the fastened collar of his shirt, freeing himself of the garment, he's already sloughed the boots and trousers as well, and is there before her bare. She can see the scars, the body trauma. 

Something like sympathy paints her face at first, and it's not long before he's unfastened her shackles. Lifting her from the chair and pulling her taut to his body. He works at the zipper of her suit and works it down her body, not saying a word. She stands completely silent, enraptured by his uncharacteristic gentle touch. He's freed her from the suit and she stands there before him, also bare and hiding nothing from him. 

She wants to say something, to protest, but he pulls her into a tender, almost loving kiss like he's testing her boundaries at first, seeking her affections. He groans into it when she reciprocates and matches his pace. 

Her face grows hot, her legs weak, the place between her thighs aches.  
He slips a hand to the parting of her sex to test her, to feel the heat there and she's already wet. He moans in excitement and pushes her onto the chair, she's heavy-lidded and gasping. He's on her again, kissing down her neck, teeth laying soft bites on her pallid flesh. She's moaning, the fingers push deep into her sex, he knows her body, how to hit her in just the right way to elicit the response he desires, her mewlings of delight make him as harder than ever. 

Something about her reciprocating this action drives him wild.

"Fuck me." She demands.

He smirks, pulling her towards him and takes the plunge. She throws her head back, moaning loudly and unashamed as he pushes himself to the hilt. 

She's gasping for breath but her break is over. 

He pulls back and again, surges forward, grabbing her hips firmly to work her onto his length, and she bucks forward taking him in strides. He's never felt the same intensity from sex as he is now. This feeling, the person he's wildly fucking. 

Exhilarating 

The pressure is building, and he knows he's going to spill himself inside, careless as always, but he never expected his seed to take root inside her, to create life from within his enemy. 

The thought causes yet another rush of pleasure. 

If Christopher could see his partner now, the love of his life, taking him with ease, wanting this union, this moment.

Consenting to such a wildly intimate act.

He's fucking the love of his rival's life, and it's getting him off just by thinking it about it.

He pulls her off of him and moves to sit on the surgical chair, positioning her to ride him, face him, look into his eyes as she fucks him. She mounts his length again, sliding down his impressive girth, shaking as she feels him touch her womb, so deep inside. There's no thinking for her, there's only the feeling this brings.

"Cum." he urges and he guides her hips. 

"Ah, Al... I'm-" 

"Cum." He urges yet again, leaning into the crook of her neck as she continues to work him. "I'm there with you." 

They both feel the lightning and the pleasure of release, the overwhelming heat as he floods her.

He's still so hard, and she's spent but wants so much more. He obliges her needs, and the cycle begins again.

-

She passed out upon her sixth climax and he returns her, dressed and cleaned to her quarters. Setting her on her cot, and knowing that seed is still planted deep inside. He must rectify the mistake or Excella will abandon the project. 

Excella's head over heels for Wesker and she downright disgusts him. It was different when it was just fucking, like a chore he had to do. But what went on in the operating room...

That was intense and personal. Like Jill had meant it.

"Fuck!" he fumed. Slamming a fist into the metal wall, creating a sizeable dent.

She's back under control, he needs to regain his own.

-


	4. Another loop in the noose.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter to help keep up with the unsorted timeline chaos.

Excella was tense, something was off with Albert, and he was much more cozy around Jill than she was comfortable with. He used to throw her across the room at the slightest hint of disobedience and now he's looking the other way, letting her rebel. 

"Albert," she smiled.

"What would you think of having dinner together?" She asks, slyly slipping a hand on his arm. 

"We can have dinner and talk?" 

"If you need to ask me something important, then do so." He rebutted and brushed off her arm.

"Fine," Excella straightens, smoothing out the side of her dress, and sighing. "You're treating your pet far too well for my liking."

He smirks, watching a Majini carry expired subjects to the furnace.

"Yes." he turns to look at her, knowing she's keen.

"You agree?" She pushes.

"You're absolutely right, Excella. I am being too considerate of our poor Valentine." he rolls his shoulders, cracks his knucks and works at the collar of his suit. "Let me ameliorate the problem for you." He's going to prove to Excella and himself that Jill means nothing to him, right here, right now. 

"Valentine. Come here..." he commands, she turns to see him from the catwalk. She's obedient, steadfast in her work now that her mind is once again trapped behind his barrier. 

Inside she's thinking he's going to make use of her for whatever task he's cooked up, but something like how he's approaching and the look on his face scares her. He's stalking towards her with intent, each step he takes to close the distance between them echo's so loud, and it screams danger.

"Yes, si-" the motion stops her speech, instantly paralyzing, the impact so great that she flies back across the catwalk and slams into the adjacent wall, the wind knocked out of her. 

She fights for breath, trying to register the violence, but he's coming towards her again, she's got to regain her composure quickly and defend herself. She tries to pull herself up, but can't hold purchase against the slickened wall. Her suit feels hotter, and something hurts, but she can't assess the damage.

He's cocking an arm back, a hand ready to grab her throat, this wasn't how she remembered him, randomly violent, unprovoked. Usually, she would disobey him and be punished, but now? He's unreadable.

Wesker stops, features change, he's _wide-eyed_ so abruptly.  
She's still gasping, but he's rushing to her, not to continue his onslaught but to scoop her into his arms.

He rushes back into the room where Excella is. "Get the medical staff." he barks. 

She takes one look at Jill and it's the same terror.

" _Oh my god! What did you do to her_?!" she screams. "I thought you were going to _punish her_ , not **kill** her!!"

"Just get them!" he snaps, setting Jill down on the couch, as Excella darts from the room in hysterics. "Jill!" he calls out to her, she's losing so much blood, it's critical he keep her awake. That same blackness creeping in. "Fuck! Jill, you're hemorrhaging." He's trying to stay calm.

She can hear the medical staff coming from down the hall, and Wesker tries to shake Jill, to keep her conscious but she's passing out.

**Lightning.**

****

****

****

****

**Thunder.**

**Falling.**

\- -  
There's a pain in her back, but she can hear birds singing outside, and feels the warmth of the sun on her face. Her eyes open slowly, and the view is different. There are pictures on the wall, a bit blurry, but it's a couple smiling in each of them, and the bed she's in smells comforting; off-brand shampoo and grease from an engine. 

Jill can hear someone in the next room talking, and another is laughing.  
Her vision clears and she can make out the photo on the nightstand. 

She's in a wedding dress and Chris in a Tuxedo.  
Leon and Claire have their formal clothes on as well and Leon is holding a baby?

It dawns on her that she's home, to her normal life, her own life. No more weird nightmares, no more bad dreams.

She sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and gets up slowly.  
The clock reads 11:23 AM. Not even lunch, she's late to work, but why would everyone have let her sleep in?

She looks in the mirror above the dresser and she's still blonde, pale and those wounds from the P30 device haven't fully faded. Her hair's still long and features more haggard like she's been through hell within the past twenty-four hours. 

Her body is still thin, nothing out of the ordinary.

"Jill?" Chris calls from the kitchen. "Lunch is early, you hungry?"

"Yeah, I'm ready to eat!" she returns.

She looks herself over again, then decides to dress for the day.  
The sound of a small child babbling and Leon saying something she can't quite hear fills her ears, Claire is on the phone to someone but she's unsure with who.

Jill leaves the bedroom to join her company for lunch, and Claire hangs up the phone. Leon smiles at what she can only assume is a boy, and he takes a tumble back onto the carpet. 

"Sherry says Jake is coming back from Russia next week. We could all have a picnic?"

Jill takes a minute to think; _So much going on._

_**Claire's had the baby, Jill married Chris? Leon and Claire have a toddler and Jake is coming to visit with Sherry? How long has she been asleep? What happened to making pancakes?** _

"Oh! Hey, Jill! You're awake!" Claire says, bubbly as ever. "I just got off the phone with Sherry and she was saying Jake is going to come to visit her next week, how would you feel about a picnic?" 

Right, Jake Muller...

**Albert Wesker's bastard son.**

****

****

Wesker.

_Albert Wesker._

"Sure?" she replies, unsure of how to answer that.

\- -  
It's nearly 3:44 PM by the time Kennedy's leave and she's alone with Chris. It's a welcome relief to have some alone time with her husband, but with all the nightmares something still feels so off.

"You okay? Something wrong?" Chris asks. He hands her a drink and joins her on the couch. "You look like you have something on your mind." 

"I just had a bad nightmare..." she says.

"I get the feeling it had something to do with Africa," Chris asks again. "right?"

"Sort of?" she half-way admits.

Chris sets his drink down and looks at her. "If you feel like sharing, I'm all ears." he's got a warm and inviting smile. She missed that.

"I had a terrible nightmare that I'd gotten pregnant." she starts, which Chris raises a brow to. Maybe she'd need to explain?

"Not from you..." She admits, trying to lighten the mood with a soft chuckle.

"So...?" he asked with a nudge.

"I dunno, it's so complicated." she droned on.

"Just tell me, I'm not gonna judge." he nudged her again.

"We were back in Raccoon City," she admitted, but the look on her face gave Chris a bad feeling. "And everyone was there, but it wasn't the same. You weren't the same." Jill confessed. Feeling sheepish about how bad this was all going to sound.

"Was I an asshole?" Chris cocked his head, brow raised, like he was trying to imagine it.

"No! That's just it! The whole thing wasn't normal! You and this Amy chick from your apartment were sex friends? And I was married to Wesker?" 

" _Wait a minute!_ " Chris stopped her, a hand on her shoulder. "Back up!"

"Yeah, I know-" 

"No, wait! You _and_ Wesker?"

"I said it was a nightmare." 

"I'll say," he laughed, standing up and walking over to refill his glass. "sounds like one to me!"

She laughed nervously, and while part of her agreed, that version of him, at least wasn't as bad as she had remembered? After all, Jill and Chris hadn't even yet bought a house, and Chris was pretty lousy with money.

"I got pregnant, he wanted to keep it." she sighed continuing on.

"That doesn't sound like Wesker to me..." he adds. "I mean... I wish I could give you kids, Jill." he expressed downtrodden. 

Wish? She thought, her expression changed and Chris picked up on it surprisingly.

"Oh, yeah. The therapist said you might have selective lapses in your memories," he explained. " _Jill_..." he looked at her, and that clueless face. "Wesker... _sterilized_ you." 

Jill Valentine had never really wanted to have kids, she was always on some dangerous mission, she along with the other survivors knew what kind of shit was out there, waiting to come after them. 

Things could change so quickly, and children never really seemed like a good idea, but this was just heartbreaking, somewhere deep she was angry, he'd invaded so much of her life and robbed her of so much already.

It took a split second for her to blink, and she could hear it.

**  
**

**Crashing**

**Shattered Glass in the distance.**

**Screaming**

**Darkness**


	5. Skip forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There she goes, and how time does fly when you're having fun.
> 
> Or is she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me, I am on a mobile device and am not given a functional computer often.   
> Mistakes and grammar are a problem, please forgive me.

"Jill?" a voice called from down the hall, she's looking in a mirror, blinking rapidly and hoping she's just dreaming again, she'll wake up and Chris will be explaining how Leon and Claire are taking their son to some park.   
So happy to see Claire settling into a calm and peaceful life.

She's looking but not sure what she's seeing in the mirror before her.  
She's brunette, thin but with a considerable bulge to her abdomen, and the bathroom is foggy, warm and she's in nothing but a towel, hair still wet.

"Jill? Are you alright?" the voice calls again, and she knows who it is.

"A-Al?" she calls back, hesitantly. 

Oh, please let this just be a bad dream...

"Jill, goodness sake you've been in there nearly an hour dear heart. The excessive heat is not good for the baby." Wesker says, opening the door to the bathroom.

She stares at him like he's been dead, which in her case isn't far from the truth...

"Jill?" he asks, almost tenderly, coming forward with head cocked slightly, and brows narrowed in worry. 

"I-I'm fine..." She stammered, pulling the towel up.

"At least turn on the fan and get dressed, we'll be late for our staff meeting." He groaned, clearly annoyed with her behavior. 

Guess that the belly won't save me from work... She thought.

She finished blowing her hair dry and getting ready, then headed for the bedroom. A dark room, with emerald green sheets, black and gold painted duvet and so many pillows she thought that whoever slept in that bed was going to suffocate from them all.

Again, she was stuck not knowing where she was, what was going on and now that she thought of it, she was back in her first hallucination or whatever this was.

"That's it, no more scary movies late at night," she mumbled angrily. "Too vivid of dreams." 

But how could she explain the details, she couldn't have even thought up. The photographs hung on the bedroom walls were beautiful, she and Wesker were in wedding attire inside a beautiful white church, stained glass windows, warm rays of sunshine coming down and the flowers were extraordinary. She perused through the bedroom forgetting about the clothing for a moment and instead took in each photo as she stumbled upon it. 

Chris and Forest clinking glasses of beer and she's being carried bridal style onto some dance floor, a photo of her and Wesker dancing, and he's got a hand around her waist, glasses off which looked so strange. 

There's Rebecca and someone she doesn't recognize, and Claire with Barry, but the rest is just people from the RPD, no parents that she can see, and the photograph is missing Leon, which she figured is because he hasn't started yet. 

Right, Leon starts working the day of-

Fuck, what day is it?!

She's scrambling through drawers to get dressed and finally finds what she assumes are her clothes, she's in a mad dash to get herself ready and rush down the narrow hall to the kitchen where he's sitting at the table eating breakfast.

"What day is it?" she asks, flustered working at her hair with a comb.

"It's January 10th, Jill." He states, cutting at a piece of egg. "We discussed this meeting yesterday on the way home." he takes the first bite and continues looking over some sort of paperwork.

"January? 1997?" 

He turns his head, mid lift of his fork to stare bewildered at her.

"1998."

"Right..." she says.

"I know you are going on leave after today, but try to pay attention to the meeting, I don't want the others to think I am giving you special treatment just because you are my wife." 

"I'm sorry, I just think I haven't been getting enough sleep." she sighs, joining him at the table, fresh plate of eggs, fried tomato and toast before her. 

Jill, a wife. And Albert Wesker a married man? What a head trip.

\- -

Jill's relieved that her maternity leave starts so early. And while she misses the day to day over at the police station, she's got a lot to prepare for. She's somehow skipped ahead, and with the world going to fall apart around her soon she's got to hurry.

She's looking through the mail after straining to pick it up from the front door, there are magazines, weapons catalogues; probably ones he uses to get supplies for the RPD, and bills with one statement. 

Sure, it says his name on it, but she figures he wouldn't mind because they're married so she goes to open the statement from Raccoon Financial. 

"Dear, Mr. Wesker.

As previously stated the balance of your secondary savings in the amount of $689,432.03 has been transferred to the aforementioned German branch and the details will be forwarded to you shortly. The balance in your checking is $43,608. While our records show your savings at our bank remains at $289,392.02. "

There is a lot of other mumble jumble at the bottom of the letter but Jill cannot tear her eyes away from the numbers. He's not just loaded, he's very well off. 

Where's he getting the money? The RPD doesn't pay this well...

Umbrella. 

He's transferring his money, he knows what's going to happen?

She tries to put it out of her mind, she's stuck for now caring for her already heavily pregnant body, and now that she's expecting the whole thing scares her so much more. 

Worry

Stress

What's going on? 

\- -  
Albert Wesker comes home at a quarter after Eight. He greets her with a kiss on the cheek and asks about her health, before going off to showers and dress for the evening. He comes down to dinner Jill has fumbled through, after all, she was never really that much of a cook, but she had the day to read magazine articles from her old subscription to Raccoon Home and Garden, and was able to figure out something.

She'd found the credit card in her wallet by the door, inside of a pricy and to her personal opinion, tacky Louis Vuitton bag. So she had spent the day buying groceries and getting some various unnamed items she could hide in their garage.

"How was your day?" He asked, sitting down at the table with her, digging into the roast. 

"Good, busy... I went shopping, saw this new recipe that I thought you'd like." 

they bantered on for a while, small talk, and the weather, etc before she felt a sharp stabbing sensation in her groin. She yelped in pain, and a hand flew to her abdomen. He noticed the action immediately and was at her side in an instant. 

"What's wrong?" he urged, checking her pulse and helping her up.

"I-I don't know..." She replied, the pain shooting through her again, and suddenly her legs felt wet, hot and she could smell something like copper pennies as she fell forward into him.

"Fuck!" he cursed loudly, lifting her up as she began to slump. "We need to call the ambulance," he said, trying to soothe her as best he could, but she could, something was very wrong.

\- -

The ambulance was there in no time, and she was loaded into the back, Wesker joined her, holding hands and trying to keep her steady but the pain was growing more and more intense, something splitting inside her mind, she rolled her head to the side of the gurney and vomited. 

Not once, but three times. 

When the ambulance reached Raccoon General they ran her into the operating room, Jill had long since lost consciousness in the ambulance and when she woke up, it was daylight out. She was groggy, and her head ached. Her back felt in knots and the familiar strain from laying flat on her back wasn't there.

The baby.

She reached down and the swell was significantly reduced. 

Wesker was asleep on one side of the bed, and there were machines hooked up to her arm. 

She knew then that she'd lost the baby.

Wesker began to stir and looked up baffled. "Jill, you're awake."

She tried to sit up but his hand steadied her, keeping her down. "No, no. You can't get up yet. You'll rip the stitches."

"We lost it." she said flatly. 

While it wasn't a massive blow to her, she didn't know how he'd take it. She really didn't know anything about who this Wesker was, and tried to be as cautious as possible. 

"They said the heart gave out," he started. Sitting over closer to her, and grasping her hand. "It was underdeveloped. They want to keep you for a few days and will let you go home on Sunday."

"How long was I out?" she asked.

"I'm not sure? Twelve hours?" he said. "It's nearing Six in the morning."

She relaxed back into the bed and he smoothed back his locks, standing up and stretching out next to her. 

"I'll let the nurse know you're up." he said before leaving her room.

She decided to try and get more rest, but couldn't stop the thought of how relieved she was that she wouldn't have to care for the infant while the world fell apart in a few months.

Wow, I'm a horrible person. She thought. What kind of fucked up thought is that?!

He came back in with a nurse and the nurse went to check on her IV bag, as it was nearing the point of changing. Jill blinked, just closed her eyes for a second and when she opened them, the whole room was gone, and the steady beeping of her machines sped up, and alarms went off.

"She's awake!" called someone from behind glass. She looked around in a panic.

One way glass observation mirrors, metal walls. The smell that filled her nose brought it all back. The antiseptic and also the acrid odors from her room and also the bodies burning in the furnace nearby. The sounds of Majini outside the room talking with their rotting lips.

Wesker, clad in his ridiculous suit strolled in, a medical staff handed him her chart and he studied it, the man exited the room after leaving Jill and Wesker alone. 

"You've been sleeping quite some time."

He's looking at her through those stupid fucking glasses, and she remembers now, being thrown against the wall, bleeding, hemorrhaging.

"Luckily for us both, that little pest problem was sorted out without alerting our dear friend Excella," he smirked, stroking the device on her chest. "and our little transgression a thing of the past."

She wanted to curse him out, tear at him, to hurt him back. She couldn't do this again, this hell she had once already survived, she couldn't come back to this, she'd already gone through years of therapy. And for what? To dream so vividly of this? 

Was this even a dream? 

Was this real?

Time, pain, everything bleeding together, something inside echoing, as if she was screaming far away.

"Shall we examine your progress?" he asked, pulling at the familiar hospital robes.

The welt was still so tender, but healing, with the help of the P30 serum.   
He looked pleased with the way she acted as he skimmed a gloved finger over her bruised, aching flesh.

"You'll have 3 days to heal, and then we'll speak more."

Jill didn't respond, she was still under the control of the device, buried deep into her chest, tendrils gripping at her heart. While the mindless obedience did please him, she still remembered him saying he hated that she couldn't speak to him, he detested that she was nothing more than a robot.

But even this timeline was a mess, or maybe if she was dreaming, this was just a nightmare of how much worse things could be.

But, just maybe...

What if she gave him what he wanted? What kind of outcome would happen?

What if she did what he asked, would the world be reborn, would she die?

What if Albert Wesker got everything he wanted?


	6. Fall into me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deepest apologies I was sick with Covid.

Jill wakes up somewhere around midnight and sits up to look around, noticing the freedom of her movements, as well as the nonexistent glow of the P30 device, she doesn't feel her body aches and the pains associated with the injury.

"Where-" her voice, without restrictions, comes out in such a startling way, it's hoarse and raspy.

This isn't the same medical ward, it's lighter, cleaner, and smells better than her old room where Wesker would stick her when she was injured during sparring.

She stands up and feels no pain as her feet touch the floor and her full weight settles, she moves aside the clothing and peers at her abdomen, where the welt, the bruising is gone. The internal damage must have mended which is a relief as well.

He attacked her so violently... and sure, violence was a part of his trademark, it wasn't like him to attack unprovoked or to injure her so severely without provocation.

He'd been with Excella, right?

What if Excella had figured it out and she forced him to-

As she's piecing together the events and trying to think of something that could have made some sort of sense to her, a knock is heard and she looks over to it, watching the only door slowly open and Excella walk in.

"I see you're awake and active. Hurry up and get dressed, he wants to see you," she says angrily. "Now."

Excella escorts her down to the monitor room and knocks before opening it.

There, sitting watching the monitors is Wesker, skimming them for something she probably should care about, but she's just glad the pain is gone.

"You've been out for a week. That's a week of time I didn't have your... assistance."

He seems so blasé about the whole thing, but when he turns to look at her, there's a gash that runs from his throat to the cheek.

He looks at her chest and immediately signals Excella to depart and shut the door, which she complies with, not before making a dramatic show of disapproval.

He gets up and walks over to her, unzipping her suit noticing the device is off, simple enough, he takes out the small remote and presses a button to activate it, but there's no light, not a sound, nor her usual stiffening and then obedience.

"There must be a wiring malfunction."

"Cut the shit, what day is it?"

He stares at her, no discernable change in his expression, but she can tell he's confused by the question.

"What. Day. Is. It?!" she growls.

He clicks his tongue in disapproval and shakes a finger.

"Attitude, Jillian. Isn't there something you can add to that?" he mocks.

"Fuck you." she smiles.

"Now, now. That's not very ladylike of you." he smirks back.

"What's with your face?" she gestures. "Don't you know how to shave?" Jill chided.

He turns to look away, obviously seething.

"Cat got your tongue?" she pushes further.

He looks to her, eyes glowing, knit brows and fists clenched.

_Struck a nerve._

Wesker takes a deep breath and relaxes, letting his body loosen.

"I thought I killed you," he says.

"Didn't you want to?" 

"Yes."

"I wanted you to."

"I know."

"I'd rather be dead than be your fucking puppet."

"I know."

"First you violate me," she pauses, thinking about why she's even here.

"T-then you torture me."

He steps forwards, hand outstretched to wipe tears she didn't know she was crying. The emotion in the room is stifling, more than she's ever shared with him, but for some reason, it's no longer awkward.

"I'm not ready to let you go," he whispers loud enough that she can hear him, wiping another tear and reaching the other hand to cup her cheek. "not right now."

There's a faint sound of tapping heels just outside the door as Wesker moves in for a tender kiss, pulling her waist flush to him.

The door opens as she closes her eyes surrendering to the feeling, she just doesn't care anymore.

An inky blackness.

** Rain **

** Thunder **

** Screaming **

She's moving again.


	7. What a sour mood, for a sunday.

The blackness disappears, leaving Jill awake and somewhere in the middle of the night.

The clouds overhead are split open by lightning, and the scream of thunder that follows is deafening. The rain makes it hard to see, but quickly enough, Jill's environment comes into clarity, and she's left to feel each agonizing cut, bruise, and break. 

She knows where she is. 

She's fallen from the window again; she's lying on the ground at the bottom of the ravine. Outside a house of nightmares at the beginning of what's going to be years of torture and pain. Now the uncertainty of the time skip makes her fearful of what could come next.

She can't move, she can't see well, and her body radiates pure agony with each fresh break. She's trying to move her fingers, but dislocation is highly probable. She can do nothing but wait until Wesker whisks her away to wherever he took her next from here; she doesn't remember having to go through this before.

This ordeal is all new, yet so familiar.

She can only listen to the storm rage above, bombarded by the rain, and ride out this agony. Yet, a scream, a crystal clear guttural, excruciating, dreadful sound.

It's Wesker, he's awake, she can turn her neck and head towards the sounds, and she can see him. He can't be more than 10 feet from her.  
He's struggling to get up, but one arm is twisted, there's blood streaming from his eye, his mouth is gushing blood, he's screaming. So vulnerable.

She's never seen this before and is entirely mesmerized. She's never seen Wesker so unguarded, racked by the suffering of his mortal body. He was always so composed that she never knew he could experience pain like her.

He snaps a dislocated wrist back into place, fixes his shoulder, strains to stand on one broken leg, but can tell he's quickly healing, the power of the progenitor virus she guesses. 

He sits up finally and rests for a few minutes, looking around. Jill calls out to him, but her voice is still absent, her body so torn apart, it's a wonder she's alive at all. 

Wesker looks towards her eventually, noticing her eyes on him, and for a few moments, she can tell he pities her. He stands up, limps towards her, and comes to kneel by her side. 

"Jill, I have to take the shard out," he says, raspy. "it's embedded in your thigh. I don't think it's hit any major arteries." 

She can only cry, only contort her broken features into a simple, voiceless, "Yes."

He grabs her shirt and tears a strip of the fabric from around her waist, then grasps the shard of glass and rips it out, quickly applying pressure with one gloved hand and wrapping her as tightly as possible.

"I don't plan to give Chris the satisfaction of knowing you're alive," he smirks, looking around as he finishes, and spying a way out of the ravine.  
"you always were my best and brightest."

Jill's losing to the pain.  
She's going to faint but can feel her body floating, carried away, again. 

Another loop in the noose.

\- - - - -

Awake again, yet it's a warm bed, her body clean and free of debris, pain all the damage, breaks, and angry bruises. Something is wrong; she's in bed with Wesker. 

Hands fly to her chest and face. 

Clean.

No raised bumps from the P30 device. No raised lumps from improperly set facial bones; Jill's fine. She's back, again. 

Wesker notices her movement and turns to look at her. "Jill? Are you alright?" he asks, sitting up and switching on the lamp on his nightstand.   
"Thinking about the baby again?" he asks tenderly, which is such an alien emotion coming from him.

Tenderness from him, yet she could blink her eyes, and he's flinging her across the room like a rag doll. She's losing the composure she has; having to keep up with where she is has worn her down, has fragmented her mind.

"Jill?" he asks again, worried.

She stares at him, but there are only blue eyes looking back at her. He's saying something, yet she's not paying attention to anything but his eyes; she wants to drown her sorrows in them. 

"Just kill me already," she whispers. "I want to go back to Chris. I want to go home."

"What?" he asks, bewildered. "What are you talking about?" 

His eyes go wide, his face drains. 

"You're... cheating on me?!" he asks angrily.

Familiar rage, familiar emotions.

"With Chris?!? What the fuck, Jill!" he snaps.

"This is all a nightmare. I'm not even supposed to be here!" Jill explains loudly, jumping out of bed, and backing into a corner. "I've already done this before!" her anger devolves into sobbing. 

"I'm not going to do this anymore; I'm not going to pretend to be this person, dragged into a fake marriage you'll abandon for Umbrella."

Wesker stares back at her, completely baffled. 

"What the fuck are you on about?" he growls. "You're starting to scare me."

"Oh, cut the shit, you're umbrella's puppet!" 

Wesker gets out of the bed as well, trying to understand what in the world she's saying. 

"You're going to try to lure us all to that fucking mansion in the mountains to get data for Umbrella." Jill snapped. 

"What mansion?! What in the hell is wrong with you?! I'm a police officer, not some crazed mad man! Are you completely mental?!?"

"I guess so; if you're going to kill me, do it now. I won't even fight. I don't care anymore." 

Wesker peers into her eyes, hoping to find some answers, but there are only dull eyes staring back like Jill's been through thousands of lifetimes of pain. 

"Are you sleeping with Chris?" he asks calmly.

"I'm married to him," she responds curtly. "that's normal."

"That's news to me, and everyone else..."

"I'm sure all that money would have been nice."

"What money?"

"The money you transferred, I read the mail, you've been diverting your savings to Germany." 

"Jill..."

"Don't try to get cute with me!" she screams, running to her nightstand and pulling out her samurai edge, pointing it right at him.

"Jill... It's okay." Wesker says, holding his hands up. "I'm retiring in two years, and you know this. I wanted us to move to Europe."

"Bullshit." she spits, finger on the trigger.

"Barry, I've been talking to him about it for months!" he explains. "You lost the baby, and we've hit such a rough patch I didn't think it was a good time to bring it up-"

"Lies." She hisses.

"I have correspondence with the bank!"

Jill's eyes are welling up with tears, and her vision is so blurry it's hard to continue to point the gun at him with any certainty. He's catching onto her hesitance and leaps forward, grabbing the gun and pointing it in the air as she fires it out of fear.

"I'm not going to hurt you!" he yells, grabbing the gun from her and throwing it across the room. "Goddamn it, Jill! What is going on?!" he pulls her close, holding her against him as she slams fists on his chest and scratches at his back. 

"LET GO OF ME!" she repeats over and over, louder and louder, until her voice breaks, and she can only cry with the same ferocity. 

"I love you. I love you so much," He soothes. "please don't give up on what we have." 

Jill cries until she's exhausted and limp, at the end of her strength, and finally laments. She gives in, surrendering herself to him. 

"I don't even know what year it is anymore." she says, through hiccupped breaths.

"It's 1999." he responds, kissing her forehead.


	8. Learn to keep my mouth shut.

Aside from the apparent time skipping issue, 1999 is not a year she was snuggly in bed with someone from S.T.A.R.S. Let alone Albert Wesker, and to pile the craziness, he was consoling her and very much in love with her, which was not a typical Sunday for Jill. 

Letting go of the date; one Raccoon City should not have survived, she decided it was best to let it go; it's possible to have a divergent timeline. Maybe he was just another guy, and perhaps she was just another girl.

Maybe, just maybe, this one line was okay?

"Did you mean what you said earlier?" 

"What did I say?" Wesker queried, holding her.

"That you love me?"

He looks down at her tenderly, with a warm smile—an odd thing to see on his face.

"Yes." 

"Why?"

"You ask that a lot," he smiles. "you made the first move after all."

"I did?"

Jill was never lucky in love; from all the dates that ended in disaster, all the men who wanted nothing more than a quick fuck, a one night stand, a fling, or to try and get with a cop. Somehow, Albert Wesker, a narcissistic psychopath, fell in love with her; how utterly strange. 

"Vincent Almini used a cattle prod to knock me out, causing my heart to stop-" he explained; Jill sat with him, listening. "You found me and got me conscious. I woke up; your lips were on me..." Wesker explained, trailing off, embarrassed.

"That's called C.P.R."

"You just wanted to kiss your boss." he laughed. 

Yeah, that was a thing I had thought about at one point. She mused.

"I knew I loved you three dates in, two weeks after the fourth of July when we went out for ice cream and a movie." 

Wait, two weeks after the fourth of July? That was when they would have gone into the mountains; slaughtered one by one until it was just Chris, Barry, Rebecca, Richard, and Jill.

"The sex was also phenomenal, and it still is," he smirked, pushing her back onto the bed and straddling atop her. "I love you, Jillian," he whispered, leaning in to kiss along her neck. "I love you so much."

Jill briefly thought about pushing him away and making a break for the door, but what if all of this, this mindless skipping through time, was a test for something? What if it's all orchestrated to free her from something more profound. 

Maybe she could play the cards she was dealt, go with the flow, and then be returned home again. What if this was all just temporary to teach her something?

She let her body relax, closed her eyes, and whispered back to him.

"I love you."

She felt him stop, pulling back from her, and something dripped on her cheek, her body warm and slick. Her eyes flew open wide. 

"What did you say?"

Wesker stared down at her, surprised. Looking her straight in the eyes, on all fours above her, hair a wild unkempt mess. The two of them nude and sopping wet.

She knows where she is. 

The giant indoor bath back in Africa.

An old Umbrella mansion, before Jill went under the P30's influence. Excella had to keep Tricell under her control after moving operations to Africa, so there they stayed in that opulent place while Excella went to war with the board.

"You what?" he pressed again, Just as confused.

She hesitated, not knowing how to get out of the uncomfortable conversation. This Wesker wasn't the one she had been talking to, and he didn't want a quiet evening and a plate of pancakes in the morning. 

She hesitated for a split second. 

"I-I wasn't-" she stammered.

"What did you say," he demanded. "say it again!"

"I can't-" 

Jill struggles as he moves in closer to her. He was pinning her against the floor again. Hot breath on her neck, running a hand down her leg, savoring the sultry scent. Wesker smirks deviously. "What an enticing aroma."

She pushes him off her and tries vainly to lift herself from the bathroom floor, but she's coated in a strange fluid and can't get up; he brings her back down against the floor once again, returning her to their former position.

"You forget how fast I am," he growls aroused.

"Consider my interest piqued. How did you form this romantic interest?" a hand deftly slides up Jill's inner thigh. "Perhaps it's the way I fuck you," Wesker muses. "is that it?" he explores her sex, grinning as he finds her body reciprocating his interest.

Jill screws her eyes shut, desperate to take herself anywhere. Hoping for her eyes to open and her body left elsewhere. Alone in bed with Chris, or shopping with Claire. Maybe the Kennedy's on some vacation with them. Anywhere else but this moment, this conversation.

"You don't love me, Jill," he explained. "you love what I can do to you."

No.

NO! 

Wesker pulls her waist to him, spinning them to swap their positions until she's sitting astride his body. Grasping her hips to push her against him, rocking her body back and forth, teasing. She rubs against his length, shuddering at the warmth, the stiffening of his member. He's fully erect, and he only needs one more push before-

"Just let me go-" she whispers.

"No." 

"Please..." she pleads, closing her eyes.

"Never."

"Why are you keeping me here??"

"What is with this odd tangent? You're much too bold in your inquiry today."

He ceases his soft stroking, a blush creeps up her body, aching to continue the sensation, giving rise to a shuddered breath, a soft moan.

She opens her eyes, pushing against him, struggling to get off his lap, but he merely grasps her waist with greater force and grinds her against him roughly.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Wesker shoots her a devilish grin, lifting her body up slightly, then plunging himself inside her violently. Jill cries out at the intrusion and tries vainly to get free, but he only forces her down harder, down to his base.   
Jill can only let him take his time, only surrender to him until he releases her. 

No one will come to save her.

She can only cry as he uses her body for his pleasure, only try to dwell on other happier thoughts as he fucks her yet again.

Several positions, bruises, and bites later, and Wesker's sated. Dressing in soft linen loungewear and taking his time in doing so. Jill's left on the bed, having been taken to it some time during their sordid hour together.

She lies there, staring up to the ceiling tile; it's polished enough she can see her reflection.

Wesker glances back at her. She returns a spiteful look, eyes burning with renewed hostility. He sighs, turning to face her, and running a hand through his wet locks, slickening them back.

"You'd think I let a wild animal into my room."

"I always had teeth." she retorted. 

"I'll always be here to tame you."

"Why don't you kill me?."

"No."

"I won't even have my mind soon enough."

He raises a brow.

"What makes you think I can control your mind?"

"That serum you're working on."

She won't ever forget it, the p30 device that left scars deep inside her and a spot large enough to remind her until she dies. Wesker's been working on it in secret; Excella hates her, and they've grown tired of her constant escapes, the messages she tries to smuggle out when they turn their back near an open computer.

He's been working on it.

But Jill remembers the suffering, all the issues with that first batch.

The vomiting, fevers, bleeding, the tearing of her muscles, dizziness, restricted breathing, it's etched there in her memory. 

"How do you know about that?" he asks casually.

As far as he knows, only three people have worked on the serum, and they're nowhere near her, nor are they openly chatty. Yet more things she shouldn't know about yet.

"What, that you plan to use me like a puppet?" 

"Who told you?"

"No one."

"So, you've gleaned this information from-?" he mocks.

"Doesn't matter; Chris'll kill you anyways."

That name again, the only name Albert Wesker is tired of, eliciting an open groan of displeasure. 

"Chris, Chris, Chris. He's somewhere in North America, Jill." Wesker sighs.  
"He's blissfully unaware you're alive, and I aim to keep it that way."

"He'll know soon enough."

The two of them exchange a headed look. 

"You seem to have many grand illusions of control, Jillian."

Jill smiled; defiantly.

"You can stick me in that fucking catsuit, drill into my bones, fill my veins with poison. And use my blood to perfect Uroboros, But you'll never kill Chris."

Fuck you. Jill smirked back, watching his face fill with rage. She knew it set him off even to mention Chris, but for him to hear that she was aware of Uroboros, that was the tipping point.

"You know far more than you should," he growled. "and I suppose you're trying my patience for a reason?"

"I know a lot more than you give me credit for." 

"Do you?" he sneered.

"Like, how you plan to release Uroboros."

"Really?" he taunted.

"You want to spread it over the planet after all."

Now he'd gone well past anger, straight into curiosity; And a need to find out where Jill was getting her information from; it wasn't from his lips, nor Excella's, he hoped. Excella hated Jill. She was smart enough to know their history and how he was treating her. Jill was a liability; resourceful, healthy, strong-willed, and a sharp mind.

"Go on," he commanded. "let's hear it."

"The atmosphere." she continued. "You're getting Excella to secure funding right now. Irving's head over heels for Excella so he's going along with whatever she does."

Jill knew too much. 

A surprising amount for being trapped in a house with no way to access the information given. What's her game? What does she want from this? 

"So?" he crossed his arms, glowering over her. "What's the point of you telling me this?"

"Nothing." she smiled back again. "I just want you to know you're going to die."

Wesker stared at her, emotionless. A long minute passed between them before he began to chuckle, and the chuckle erupted into laughter.

"You're just as vindictive as me." he laughed. 

She stood up from the bed, getting into her clothing, or what little given to her. Wesker casually watched her dress, stroking his hair back and smoothing out his clothing.

"You should learn to wear a condom." she scolded.

"Why, do you have concerns?" he brushes the comment off, waiting for her to finish.

"Tell that to Jake," she mutters under her breath. 

"Who?" he presses. 

Jill looks at him with a frown.

"You forget," he points towards his ears. "I have heightened senses."

"Jake." She sighs. "Your fun, extra special bastard."

"My what?"

"The name Muller ring a bell?"

Oh, oh shit. Yeah, that did the trick.

"How do you know that name?"


End file.
